I want you to stay
by skyfallat221b
Summary: When GERT-I crashes in the middle of the Ocean, Molly's world crashes too. (TW: Suicide & character death).


« **Molly. They've crashed**. »

Three words. Three small words that had managed to pull Molly Hooper's life apart. The person who had announced the sinister news was Sherlock Holmes. The famous detective. But, most importantly, her fiancé's elder half-brother. He had taken the time to prepare her for the news, she thought, later. He hadn't asked her anything rash, and he'd been more polite than what he usually was. At first, Molly had thought it was simply John's influence. But when those dreaded three words spilled out from his mouth, her world had broken around her.

Sitting in her flat – no, their flat – with a half empty glass of wine hanging from her finger tips, the pathologist was looking over at pictures of her and her missing fiancé. It had been a few days already. If Sherlock had been hurt by the news of the missing cabin crew, he had been polite enough to not show Molly. John, of course, as a doctor, had tried to help her through it. But, having every news channel repeat the news every hour or so, was a burden Molly had to bear alone.

She'd thought about this a lot. Pulling the glass to her lips, Molly closed her eyes and remembered, all the times Martin had come home telling her about which part GERT-I had lost this or that time, or how ducked tape was the only thing keeping the plane together. She had never thought it would crash. Because Martin was the Captain. And because Martin had the best First Officer he could dream of. Both Douglas and Martin were the most able pilots in any airline. She knew it, deep in her heart, and she trusted her heart more than anything.

However, when the news had come, and the search and rescue had been dispatched from Hawaï to search the Ocean around the islands, Molly's heart had sunk deep in her chest. She wanted to feel Martin's warmth against her skin. She wanted to count his freckles as he was sleeping, and let her head rest against his chest, rocked by the rhythm of his breathing.

Now, she was alone. The news was a background noise she couldn't turn off : the hope of hearing the « We found something ! » was too big for her to give up. John had come by earlier that day, brought her some flowers and offered to stay with her. Sherlock had texted her. Even Mycroft had asked if there was anything he could do for her. She had accepted John's flowers, but closed the door in his face as soon as he didn't have anything else to offer. And she had thrown the flowers in the trash. Flowers. It reminded her of a funeral. There wasn't going to be a funeral. Martin wasn't dead. He was alive, somewhere. She could feel it. However, everybody around her seemed to have given up hope. Mrs. Hudson had sent her a letter.

Even Carolyn Knapp Shappey had had the guts to show up at her door, with an apologetic smile and an excuse. Molly knew that Carolyn had lost her son – no, that her son was missing too – but she couldn't help but feel anger towards the old lady. She had been the one responsible for the plane, she had been the one employing Martin, the one sending halfway round the world on a short notice. She could've seen this coming. She should have.

A heartache suddenly rose from her stomach to her chest, and Molly began to sob, the wine glass falling to the floor, breaking in a million pieces. Her eyes still closed, she held one of Martin's oversized jumpers closer to her chest, and inhaled his scent. He'd left her that morning with a smile. They had shared an amazing week-end together, and he was supposed to leave for a week. But he had promised her that he would be back. He'd promised !

What was she supposed to do ? Opening her eyes, veiled by her tears, she looked around the flat, trying to find something to do. But she couldn't bear to leave her place, to let go of Martin's jumper. Gazing down at her ring finger, she blinked some tears away as she turned the ring half a turn, as if to remind her that they had a wedding to plan. She couldn't give up hope.

Burying her face in the jumper as she felt another hiccup come, she hid away from the world. There was a knock on the door, but she ignored it. She didn't want to talk to anybody. When she recognised Sherlock's voice, she managed to yell at him to get lost, in a heartbroken and tired voice. She hadn't showed up to work for three days. She hadn't slept properly. The bed felt too empty to sleep. It felt too big, without Martin to fill the other side. Without Martin to tuck at her sheets. Without Martin's snoring. She had chosen to hide away, waiting for the news to fall. She wanted to hear the journalists tell the world that they'd found something. Anything.

Martin Crieff had promised to come back from his trip. He had promised that he'd have gone with her to look at flowers for the wedding. He'd promised to bring her something back, as he always did. He'd promised her that he'd be safe. He was the one flying the plane. How could it crash if he was the one flying it ?

But this time, Martin had been wrong. And, now, Molly wasn't sure if Douglas was going to be able to figure out a way to make everything alright. There were a total of 5 missing persons. Mr. Birling and Mrs. Birling, their passengers. Douglas Richardson, Martin's first officer. Arthur Shappey, the happy and joyful stewart. And of course, Martin Crieff, captain. The news stations kept on repeating the names, showing pictures, making documentaries, research… Fitton had been assaulted with journalists, not leaving Carolyn alone for one day. She had Herc to go to when she felt broken, by the absence of her over-talkative son.

Molly was alone.

She'd been alone until the day she'd met Martin, and now he was gone – no, he wasn't. She couldn't let herself acknowledge the fact that he was gone.

Stroking the jumper slowly, she exhaled through broken breaths, before opening her eyes, watching the television through tear veiled eyes. She got up, walking barefooted on the shards of her broken glass, and went to the bathroom. She thought she heard knocking on the door. But she ignored it.

Walking straight to the bathroom, she got into the bathtub, and opened for the tap, letting it cover her in burning hot water. The jumper tightly tucked against her chest, she felt the water rise, higher and higher again. She heard something coming from the television, but didn't care. She swallowed, and shivered, the water pulling through her clothing. She pulled the jumper up, and put it on, crossing her arms, as she waited for the water to cover her up to the collarbones.

Martin was gone. She was alone again. Playing with the ring on her finger, she closed her eyes as she pushed the tap shut with her elbow, and slowly sank lower and lower. Without Martin, there was no reason for her to drag on. They had even begun talking about having a child together. Martin had been so enthusiastic about a child. As she exhaled, slowly, she sank herself underwater, and hoped she'd have the courage to pull through.

GERT-I had crashed in the middle of the ocean. If Martin was gone, he had been taken by water. Molly wanted to go that way too.

Through a final ragged breath, Molly felt her body react to the lack of oxygen, and its instincts kicked in. She took a breath. Inhaled water instead of air.

«_ I'm coming, Martin._ » were the last words she remembered thinking, as blackness crept over her.


End file.
